


New Days and Xambrose Nights

by SapphoIsBurning



Series: Xavier Ships It [3]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Background Dean/Xavier/Roman, Characters Reading Fanfiction, Cosplay, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Xavier ships everyone all the time in his head, Y2AJ, characters who can't stop talking when they're nervous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Xavier get some time to bond during the WWE Live tour of Germany. Xavier finds he has a lot of explaining to do, but Dean catches on quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Shipping News

Xavier and Dean sat next to each other in narrow airplane seats; they were on their way to Germany for WWE Live.

For his part, Xavier looked at the man next to him with new eyes. Sort of new. Relatively new. New as of the last couple of weeks. Dean Ambrose was a sweltering hunk of manliness the likes of which he never...okay, let's be honest, he was surrounded by many flavors of sweltering manliness every day he went in to work, because he was blessed and living his best life possible. But. Dean was hot, and he smelled good, like leather jacket and cheap shampoo? It was like he stepped out of one of the bara manga he snuck with him on the road in the bottom of his suitcase. He had no gag reflex to speak of and he seemed to like Xavier back.

Roman was staying back and making some domestic appearances; Xavier planned to meet back up with him in Portland the following weekend when they’d be appearing at the comic con there. But for now, he had Dean all to himself.

“You've really never had a threesome before that?” Dean asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Well. Not outside of Dragoncon,” Xavier replied. “And Dragoncon is a very delicate time.”

Dean made an exasperated face and shrugged at him to request an explanation.

“It's...a convention. It's basically where geeks go to have foursomes,” Xavier said all in one breath. “There are a lot of cosplayers there.”

“That's when people wear costumes.”

“Yeah.”

“See, that part makes sense to me,” Dean said equably. “I mean, I get Halloween. Why not have Halloween more than once?”

Xavier debated how much more he should say on this topic. “It's so much more than that though. People recreate screen-accurate versions of costumes that are animated or CGI. Things that were never meant to exist in real life fabric. People also make their own versions of characters. I, for example—” He checked to see if Dean was still listening. It looked like he was. “Well, I have a lot of costumes, but I cosplay as a genderbent version of Jem. From Jem and the Holograms? The cartoon?”

“Cool,” Dean said, furrowing his brow. “So you dress up as a girl?”

“No, I'm a boy version of a girl character. Here, I've got a picture.” Xavier got his phone out of his pocket, maneuvering against Dean to reach it. He flicked the screen on and opened his photos, scanning through for pictures from last fall.

“Oh see, I also dressed up as Sub Zero.” Xavier handed the phone to Dean, who swipe to look at the photos.

“Pink contacts?” Dean asked.

“They're a pain, but they really add to the look,” Xavier said earnestly.

“You're committed,” Dean said, sounding impressed.

“It's a lifestyle,” Xavier sniffed.

Dean kept flipping through photos until he got to one that made him raise his eyebrows. “People dress up as wrestlers?”

“Uh, yeah. Not as much as, like, anime characters, but yeah.”

“But this is all girls.”

“Yes.”

“Girls get together and dress up as The Shield.” Dean looked Xavier square in the eye.

“...have you never met any? They've never come to one of your signings?” he asked.

“Fuck no. I would have remembered that.” Dean flicked the phone’s screen again. “Girls get dressed up as the Shield and then kiss each other?” Dean squeaked.

“Yes. Dude, everyone shipped it. Even I shipped you guys. You were totally my OT3.”

Dean took a big swallow of his beer. “Can you explain shipping again?”

“Well, it's short for relationship. You decide that two characters are in a relationship, and...you think about them and it makes you happy.”

“Why would they care if we were in a relationship?” said Dean.

“Cause we want to see you fucking,” Xavier said quietly, gesturing emphatically with his hand. “Cause it's hot.”

Dean looked at him with wide eyes.

Xavier cleared his throat. “I mean, there are also other reasons. Emotional. You want your ship to find love and be happy, so you imagine that friends slowly become lovers. Or suddenly fall down fucking. Even better, enemies to friends to lovers.”

“Friends to lovers to enemies to lovers to enemies?” Dean asked.

“Well, that sounds a little complicated, but I'm sure somebody's probably written it,” Xavier replied blithely.

“I'll say,” added Dean.

They were quiet for a minute.

“So give me another example,” Dean said.

“Okay. Y2AJ,” he said.

“What?”

“Y2AJ. Shipping Chris Jericho and A.J. Styles. It is exploding right now.”

Dean snorted.

“All they do is stare intensely into each other's eyes! And that one time at the beginning that Jericho held his hand and tugged him back when he tried to run away? Tell me that's not super gay. In the good way. They are in love.”

“They are not in love.”

“Yes they are, and you can't tell my tumblr mutuals otherwise. You need to develop your slash goggles.”

Dean gave him a blank look.

“It’s a metaphor,” Xavier said.

The blank look continued.

“Come on. You’re a wrestler: can you ever really turn the wrestler off?” Xavier asked.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked back.

“Anytime you see someone making a speech, you think promo. Any time someone is popular, they’re over. Your mom is mad at you, you’ve got heat with her. It goes on.” Xavier folded his arms.

“Okay, point.”

“You never stop shipping either,” Xavier sighed. “Once that filter is turned on, you see it everywhere.”

“So did you ship yourself with me?” Dean grinned. He waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, it’s really bad to ship yourself. That’s not allowed.” Xavier was very matter-of-fact about this. He sipped his Coke and looked up at Dean through his eyelashes.

“But we’re totally a thing now,” Dean said. “What did you call the three of us?”

“Xambreigns,” Xavier said.

“Xambreigns, right.” Dean paused. He picked at the label of his beer. “But, like, it could also be Xambrose.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Xavier said.

“Am I?” Dean said. He took a long swig, finishing his beer with one big swallow. He flared his nostrils.

Xavier gulped. “Definitely.”


	2. Unless that's what you're into...

The New Day dropped Xavier off at his room in the Embassy Suites Nuremberg after being fussed over by a few German fans that caught them in the lobby.

“We’re just one floor up if you need anything, but I think you’ll be taken care of...” E grinned. Kofi rolled his eyes. The key card clicked and they opened the door.

“There’s somebody’s stuff here already!” Xavier complained.

“Dude. Roman talked to us.” Kofi said. “We’re cool. Why would we not be? But if they treat you bad...”

“Don’t ever let it be said I left a date unhappy,” a deep voice said behind them. “Hey roomie.” Dean grinned and put his hand on the small of Xavier’s back.

“We’re out,” Kofi said, turning to go back toward the elevator. “Later, boy.”

Xavier turned in Dean’s arms. “Wait, they put me with you?”

“I pulled some strings,” Dean said, his sleepy smile making warmth blossom in Xavier’s chest. “Need some more Xambrose time.”

Xavier pressed his lips together to keep his smile from giving too much away. He gestured toward the open door with his head and pulled Dean into the room, letting the door swing shut behind them. Xavier dropped his suitcase and let his backpack drop to the floor gently. He backed into the bed and dropped down onto it with a bounce.

Dean kicked his shoes off and crawled onto the bed next to Xavier.

“You’re here,” Xavier said.

“Where’d you think I would be?” Dean replied. “Isn’t this what we were talking about on the plane?” He pulled one knee up to his chest, curling up on the bed like a perched cat, his shoulders hunching.

“Sometimes it’s hard for me to distinguish talk from action,” Xavier said, his hand creeping up Dean’s back, scratching him between his shoulder blades, playing with the hair at the base of his neck. “For me, talk _is_ action. Other folks, talk is just talk, you know?”

“Or action is talk,” Dean added.

“Is that what it’s like for you?” Xavier said.

“Used to be. I think I’m getting better at using my words.” He leaned in to Xavier’s touch. “I like that. Feels good. See? Words.”

Xavier rubbed up and down Dean’s back, making smaller circles and then larger circles.

“So. What do you like?” Dean asked.

“What do you mean?” Xavier asked back.

“I know you like romance. I know you like those gay porn comics, you showed me some of that. You like reading about guys who bang. But, like, we’re not going to sit here _reading._ ” Dean narrowed his eyes at Xavier. “Unless that’s what you’re into?”

Xavier felt like a million eyes were on him instead of just two. He shrank down into his jacket and slumped against the headboard. “Real talk?” he asked.

Dean traced an X over his heart.

“Nobody’s ever asked me that before,” Xavier said. “Sex has always felt like something I got away with, not something I got to choose to do in any way I wanted. You grow up religious, you go to a religious school...hell, you know I started in Christian wrestling, right?”

Dean gave a small smile. “I had heard that, yeah.”

“Like, I got my toes sucked once by an Inuyasha cosplayer named Dave. That was fun, I guess. But I feel like I’m picking off the menu of a restaurant I’ve never been to before. What’s good?” Xavier laughed.

Dean turned to Xavier and propped himself up on one arm. “Let me tell you what _I_ like. I like a man who won’t shut up unless he is physically restrained. I like hearing the sound of a hard body slamming into another hard object. A mat, another body, a table, whatever.” He looked into Xavier’s eyes. “Fuck me. Fuck me, and talk to me. Please. Let me hear your voice. You can talk about whatever you want. I just miss...” But those last words were muffled by Xavier yanking Dean’s shirt up and off over his head. They fumbled with each other’s clothes, pitching things haphazardly off the bed.

Xavier kicked his sneakers off, grabbed at Dean’s belt buckle, and almost fell on the floor. Dean hauled him back up and wiggled out of his jeans. Xavier shimmied out of his own pants and Dean finished the job: they were both naked, admiring each other, trying not to laugh, failing, laughing.

Xavier caught Dean up in a kiss and they gripped each other tightly, Xavier getting a fistfull of hair and hanging on like a leash or a set of reins. Then he let go, sliding his hands all the way down Dean’s body to hold him close as they knelt together.

“Talk,” Dean insisted.

“What about?” Xavier asked.

“Who’s your favorite superhero?” Dean asked.

“God, well...you’ve probably never heard of Milestone Comics but...” Xavier started. But then he was distracted by what was in front of him. “You have the best ass, oh god.” His hands settled on it and he groped.

Dean rolled his hips up, arching his back. “Or we could talk about that.”

Xavier ran his hands up from Dean’s ass to his slender waist, framing it with his hands. “Fucking gorgeous, I can almost put my hands all the way around you, god.”

“Okay, so there’s two things you like: my ass and my waist. What else?” Dean asked.

“You smell good. I always want to smell your hair but I don’t want to be weird.”

“Takes a lot more than that to weird me out,” said Dean. He leaned his head forward and put his hair in Xavier’s face so he could breathe it in.

Xavier ran his hands higher and grabbed Dean’s upper arms. “You and Roman run the only gun show I’d ever go to,” he laughed. He traced the outline of Dean’s biceps with his thumbs.

Dean pulled away slightly to reach for one of his bags, lying on the floor near the bed. He fell forward on his stomach, hauling the bag in. He unzipped it and dug around in it while Xavier watched admiringly. When he found what he was looking for, he crawled back onto the bed.

Something dawned on Xavier. “Wait. I thought you were the old and experienced one. You’re going to let me fuck you?” asked Xavier, shifting and feeling his erection bob against his thigh. He eyed Dean’s thick, hard prick and thought nervously about splitting himself on it.

“I’m going to beg you to fuck me. Come on.” Dean didn’t waste any time flicking the cap open on the lube and drenching two fingers in it. He reached down to finger himself, maintaining eye contact with Xavier. “Gonna help?”

“Um, yeah! Of course!” He frowned at what Dean was doing and his eyes got big. “Don’t you have to start with one finger? Uhh, and then you work up to more?”

Dean looked back at him skeptically. “Maybe if you’re a virgin.” Dean already had two fingers deep in himself. “Do I have to ask twice?”

Xavier scrambled forward, grabbing the lube and pouring some into his hand. Then he stared at the pool of liquid, feeling not sure what to do with it.

Dean grabbed Xavier’s hand and guided it to his own asshole, the slick liquid dripping onto the sheet beneath them. Xavier ran a finger around the entrance, around Dean’s own fingers that were already there.

“Can I…” he asked.

“Go for it,” Dean growled.

Xavier slipped a finger beside Dean’s two and pressed in. Dean writhed.

“Wow,” Xavier said.

“You ain’t seen nothing,” Dean huffed, fucking himself in and out with his own fingers and dragging Xavier’s along for the ride.

“I’m going to put my dick in there,” Xavier said in awe.

“You really know how to sweet talk a guy. Here.” Dean threw a condom at him with his free hand and it bounced off his chest. Xavier fumbled and caught it, withdrawing his finger from Dean so he could use two hands to tear the packet open.

The latex smell brought him back to himself: he had done this before. Just because Dean was hot like burning didn’t make it different. It just made it better. He took a deep breath and rolled the condom onto himself. He stroked himself a few times with his lubricated hand. He was rock hard and feeling lightheaded with desire and opportunity.

He pushed Dean backwards on the bed, hard, with one hand. Dean landed flat and stopped fingering himself. “Please tell me you’re going to fuck me now.”

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Xavier said.

“How are you going to fuck me?” Dean asked with a mischievous grin.

“Hard,” Xavier said. “Fast. Is that okay?”

Dean’s eyes perked up. “There’s nothing you can throw at me that I can’t handle.”

“Then I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.” Xavier lifted one of Dean’s thighs, tucking his elbow under it. Dean shifted to let him in, close to his body, and Xavier’s cock brushed against Dean’s erection.

“Can always get a new name,” Dean breathed.

Xavier bit his lip, reared back, and pressed in, the tip of his cock sliding past the slick wetness of Dean’s asshole. Dean groaned, “Fuckin’ finally.”

Xavier snapped his hips hard, sending Dean flailing backward, knocking more pillows off the bed onto the floor.  He held on to Dean’s leg, pressing it back to open Dean wider. Dean arched his back, letting Xavier in completely.

“Please, keep talking,” Dean begged.

Xavier breathed in deeply, getting the smell of European hotel room mingled with Dean’s aftershave and the scent of the lotion off his own skin.

“You smell so fucking good, Dean, I’m going to...bottle you. Or keep you on a leash so you can’t get away from me. Or maybe I’ll just eat you alive. Is that too creepy?” he asked, slowing his thrusts.

“Don’t care,” Dean gritted out. “Say anything.”

“I wish Roman was here,” Xavier said, letting go of Dean’s leg to run his hands up and down Dean’s bare chest, flicking his nipples with his thumbs, putting both hands on his throat.

“Maybe don’t touch me there,” Dean said quickly. Xavier drew his hands back.

“Where’s better?” Xavier asked.

“Hold my waist.”

Xavier thought for a second. “Hey, you wanna ride me? I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Dean surged up, grabbing Xavier’s arms and rolling so that they flipped in position and Dean was on top, still impaled on Xavier’s cock.

“Wow,” Xavier said, his heart racing. “Have you practiced that one?”

Dean didn’t answer, just grinned. He braced himself against Xavier’s chest and slowly began to grind up and down on Xavier’s erection, undulating from the spine and looking the picture of ecstatic pleasure. Xavier grabbed his waist and hung on tight, pulling him down hard every time he reared up.

“What about me forgetting my name?” Dean asked. “That sounded fun.”

“Maybe we’ll both forget our names,” Xavier said. “The sex is just so—ahh, like that, oh Jesus—so amazing that we cause a...time-space disturbance? Or maybe a ley line implosion that makes us forget who we are.”

“What would we do then?” Dean asked.

“Start over. If all we know is that we’re here, ahh, here, we would only be able to assume we’re a couple. Maybe we’d run away. Maybe we’d get lost or kidnapped. Amnesia plots are always really convoluted.”

Dean looked lost and dreamy, smiling as Xavier rambled about this trope or that. His eyes were closed listening to the lilt of Xavier’s excited voice.

“And that’s what sex pollen is—oh god, I’m close,” Xavier interrupted himself. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, moving backward to rest against the headboard. “Let me hold you.”

Dean complied, moving liquidly forward to fall into Xavier’s arms. They pressed together, still joined, Xavier moving up into Dean more languidly than before.

“Ahh, Dean, my god,” Xavier hissed, clenching and shuddering as he came. He rested his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“Who’s Dean?” Dean asked.

Xavier pressed his laughter into Dean’s neck.

“You didn’t come yet,” Xavier said.

“On it,” Dean said.

Xavier grabbed the base of the condom and gently pulled out. He knotted the condom and flicked it into a trash can beside the end table. Dean hobbled back and picked up the discarded lube. He squirted some into his hand and began to stroke his own cock, moaning and cursing. “One thing I do know about you, Xavier—I know for damn sure you like to watch.”

Dean jerked himself hard, his cock nearly vertical, and Xavier’s pupils blown wide by the stimulation and arousal. Dean was beautiful like this, looking filthy but also glowing with happiness. His cheeks were flushed with pink from exertion.

Xavier spoke: “You look like you been rode hard and put away wet.”

Dean just shook his head and kept grinning while he abused himself. Xavier couldn’t look away. The veins stood out in dramatic relief along Dean’s dark red erection, a little shiny from the lube.

“I did that to you. I made you feel like this. Go on and come for me. Let me see it,” Xavier said. “I could never get tired of watching this.”

Dean’s hair hung over his face, and he ground his teeth as his orgasm hit, come spilling up over his fingers and splashing onto his stomach. He panted wordlessly, stammering on a syllable. “I. I…”

Xavier pulled him close and rubbed his back. “Shh, it’s okay, take a breath. There you go. Hey, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He hopped up from the bed, gently depositing a still wordless Dean onto some of the remaining pillows.

Dean lay there blinking while the water ran in the bathroom. Xavier came back a minute later with a warm, wet washcloth. “Give me your hand,” he said. Dean complied. Xavier took Dean’s sticky hand and wiped it down gently, working the whole hand and then wiping each finger. “Other one.” He did it again for the left, just to be thorough. Then he gently wiped the drying come off of Dean’s stomach.

He moved on to attend Dean’s more delicate areas. Dean shifted to allow Xavier to clean him thoroughly.

“I.” Dean said. “I don’t deserve you.”

Xavier scoffed. “Everyone deserves aftercare. This is just what you do, right? You want some water?”

“Not everyone thinks about sex the way you do, Xavier.”

“That’s the dehydration talking,” Xavier said, getting up to go to the counter and grab some water bottles they’d probably be charged for drinking. He opened one and handed it to Dean. “Get up, let me pull the covers back.” Dean rolled off the bed to stand for a second as Xavier yanked the blankets down so they could lie on a clean sheet. “There.”

Dean gulped and sat down on the edge of the sheet.

“Wait, are you not a cuddler?” Xavier asked.

“I...think I am,” Dean said. “Don’t always get the chance.”

“Oh, but you can’t remember you own name, so you’re not sure, right?” Xavier joked, crawling in from his side of the bed and wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist.

“I got Xamnesia,” he said, finally breaking into a smile. “There’s no cure.”

“We must do more research!” Xavier said dramatically.

Dean didn’t reply, just sank back into the pillow and the sensation of Xavier’s arms encircling him, anchoring him, like a treasure, like something precious.

“We also have a meet and greet at seven,” Xavier added. “So we have to find the cure by then.”

“You’re the smart one,” Dean said. “You’ll come up with something.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comment from my spouse: "Dean Ambrose is nowhere near big enough to be in a bara manga. But I'll let that one slide."


End file.
